


911 Emergency

by airsalonpasandpettysquabbles



Series: bare : a Pop Opera [2]
Category: bare: A Pop Opera - Hartmere/Intrabartolo
Genre: And he about to get burned by common sense, Giving him a name because he doesn't 'cannonly' have one, Going all Congratulations on Father Charles, Sister Chantelle Schuyler, So he's called Charles now :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 13:17:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20836103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airsalonpasandpettysquabbles/pseuds/airsalonpasandpettysquabbles
Summary: Sister Chantelle has a 'talk' with Father Charles





	911 Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not against any religion in any way nor am I trying to offend any religion.
> 
> Disclaimer #2: The Father in Bare now has a name (because I wasn't going to address him as 'Father' each time in the fic): Charles.
> 
> Just wanted to clarify those two things :)

Saying that Sister Chantelle was mad, was an understatement. She was furious.

One of her students had _died_ because of the unaccepting world around him, leaving behind Jason McConnell's friends in tears. But there was more to it than that. The doctors had found out the cause of it all: drug overdose. Immediately, the police interrogated his friends, his classmates, anyone and everyone. Once they had questioned Lucas, they had ruled the case to an end.

Chantelle, however, knew there was another actor that had a big role in the story: a secret power put into play. Jason would have needed guidance, and he should've gone to her for it, but he didn't. So who else would he have consulted before his demise?

Father Charles. The only one who would've planted seeds of doubt—of _poison_—in Jason's already damaged garden of secrets.

They needed to have a _chat_.

* * *

Chantelle knocked on Charles's door in absolute turmoil.

The Father's stern voice was heard, "Yes, come in."

Chantelle entered the confession in absolute turmoil.

"Charles."

"Chantelle, what a surprise. What brings you to my confession?"

"I think you know, Father."

"I'm not quite sure I do."

"Alright, I'll get straight to the point then. Did Mr. McConnell come to you before his death, or not?"

"As a matter of fact, he did."

"What did you two discuss?" she asked, her tone of voice dropping in bitter anticipation.

"Well that's private, Chantelle, you know that. What we discussed was between me and him-"

"-well now he's dead! So this _client confidentiality _is overruled. I'll ask again, then: what did you two discuss?"

The Father sighed, "The poor boy needed to confess, is all. He was confused..."

Chantelle felt the bubbling volcano in her erupt into an eery frozen supernova.

"Confused? _Confused?! _Charles, for Christ's sake!" she descended upon him as the grim reaper descended upon war. "He knew that his feelings were real—his _feelings_, Charles. You cannot change the simple reality of things. He needed support," she was reminded of her effective speech to Peter. She should've done the same to Jason. It was too late now... "and he came to _you _for it! And how do you respond? With what, _Better change who you are_?! Damn it, Charles!"

"What was I supposed to do? God forbids what he was feeling. Our religion forbids it!"

"God accepts everybody. Every single being, _Father_!" she hissed his name in mockery. "What kind of role model- no, what kind of _adult_ turns a child away like that."

"I did not turn him away!" he composed himself, his teeth gritting against each other. "I gave him solid advice."

"And how did he react to it? Did he seem hopeful? Did he seem _happy_ about it?"

"Not exactly-"

"-Well I wonder why!" she exclaimed, voice thick with sarcasm. "Maybe it was because he already knew that he couldn't change how he felt after _four years_ of trying to suppress his feelings!"

"I did what I could to help him."

"No, Charles. You only rushed him towards the hands of time. And he stumbled on doubt and _fear_ so he turned towards the only path he knew."

There was a beat, before, "I hope you realize that you were wrong. And because of that, we've lost another student."

Sister Chantelle whipped around and walked out the door, promising herself that she wouldn't lose another student to the spiraling hole of fear. She wouldn't let there be another emergency. Not like this one.


End file.
